dealings with you; his wisdom shall manage
for you, and you shall one day say, 'He hath done all things well.'"

"MARCH, 1811.

"I am daily on the lookout; one year and three months will
complete my threescore and ten. I do not know one individual alive
whom I know in my school-days; it has been the case for many years. I
do not long for my dismission, neither am I tired of life; but nothing
in this world, unless closely connected with another, interests me;
and Oh, I am tired of sin; still it cleaves to me; in all things I
come short, and many duties neglect altogether; for I still have a
considerable, share of health, and might do some good, had I will
equal to my opportunities; as to the power, it is not in me, but I
know I have it in my blessed Head, and for the asking. I cannot but
long to be delivered from sin, and sinful apathy in particular; for
really my heart must be wickedly fertile, to find out opportunities of
moral transgression. Food and raiment are mine without care; my
children, under God, care for me. I have my dear little room, my
Bible, and books founded on it. I have a dear pastor and Christian
friends, lively ordinances, and also much of the Lord's presence at
times; my cup runs over with blessings, but my gratitude bears no
proportion; my zeal for the glory of God and the good of my
fellow-sinners seems buried under self-indulgence and apathy. O that
the goodness of the Lord may lead me to repentance.

"And now, my dear friend, let me know how it is with you and your
dear family. The severe winter is past; how have you got along? with
what temporal comfort, and how has the Lord dealt with your soul? Has
the barrel of meal or the cruse of oil failed? Does the opening spring
cheer your spirits, and furnish a song of praise? Does it find you in
a situation to dig your garden, sow your seeds, and make provision for
future comfort? Has the Lord turned your captivity, and dried up the
bitter waters that flowed against you? How are your eyes, after all
the briny tears that have steeped them? How are your poor nerves,
after all the shocks that have agitated them? All these things have
been on my mind; but from my long silence, you cannot believe it. What
are we all, but broken reeds, which pierce the hand when laid hold of
for support? There is but one Friend to poor, fallen, miserable man,
in the universe. He is mercy; he is goodness; he